Yesterday was a bit of a momentous occasion for me. I went to the bank to deposit my first ever paycheck.
I arrive at the bank at 12:31 on Saturday afternoon. It's closed. What kind of assery is this? I mean, did Wachovia decide that people don't need money on Saturday? 'Cause I'm pretty sure they do.
Anyway, I pull up to the bank drive-thru and basically super-extended every muscle in my body trying to type in my pin. Drive thrus of any design are not made for the short. Anyone who has ever seen me attempt to order a Frosty and fries at Wendy's can attest to this.
I punch all the appropriate buttons and finally, I'm ready to feed the machine. At the exact moment I realize I haven't filled out my information on my deposit slip, I push the final button to complete my transaction.
A deafening horn blares out and scares the hell out of me. WHONK! WHONK! WHONK! WHONK!
Holy shit. The Wachovia Drive-Thru is the Hatch.
= 
My body goes into panic mode and I pretty much throw myself at the drive thru and attempt to punch in '4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42' so I don't cause some sort of bizarre electromagnetic anomaly and destroy the world.
Luckily, Dan maintains some semblance of sanity and pulls me back into the car. Very rationally, he explains that the world will not end if I don't put in my deposit slip in time, helps me fill out the necessary information and finally puts an end to the insane blaring (and then, he got me Chik-Fil-A 'cause he's my hero).
So Wachovia -- I have two suggestions for you:
1). Ixnay the crazy hours. I can understand being closed on Sunday, but dude? Saturday afternoon? Cut a girl a break.
2). No more siren at the drive-thru. If you're a sane and rational person, it's mildly irritating. If you're me, though? It'll make you think that you're part of a fictional television show and heavily underline the fact that you're nuts.
I arrive at the bank at 12:31 on Saturday afternoon. It's closed. What kind of assery is this? I mean, did Wachovia decide that people don't need money on Saturday? 'Cause I'm pretty sure they do.
Anyway, I pull up to the bank drive-thru and basically super-extended every muscle in my body trying to type in my pin. Drive thrus of any design are not made for the short. Anyone who has ever seen me attempt to order a Frosty and fries at Wendy's can attest to this.
I punch all the appropriate buttons and finally, I'm ready to feed the machine. At the exact moment I realize I haven't filled out my information on my deposit slip, I push the final button to complete my transaction.
A deafening horn blares out and scares the hell out of me. WHONK! WHONK! WHONK! WHONK!
Holy shit. The Wachovia Drive-Thru is the Hatch.
= 
My body goes into panic mode and I pretty much throw myself at the drive thru and attempt to punch in '4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42' so I don't cause some sort of bizarre electromagnetic anomaly and destroy the world.
Luckily, Dan maintains some semblance of sanity and pulls me back into the car. Very rationally, he explains that the world will not end if I don't put in my deposit slip in time, helps me fill out the necessary information and finally puts an end to the insane blaring (and then, he got me Chik-Fil-A 'cause he's my hero).
So Wachovia -- I have two suggestions for you:
1). Ixnay the crazy hours. I can understand being closed on Sunday, but dude? Saturday afternoon? Cut a girl a break.
2). No more siren at the drive-thru. If you're a sane and rational person, it's mildly irritating. If you're me, though? It'll make you think that you're part of a fictional television show and heavily underline the fact that you're nuts.
4 comments on "I think I watch too much television..."
hahahaha! funniest. thing. ever. don't worry, i dream i'm deserted on a crazy death island sometimes.
Last time I got onto a plane, I tried to figure out which person was the doctor, the Iraqi military man, the musician, the con artist and the fugitive.
This whole separating reel from real is really starting to become a problem for me.... ;)
My stubby t-rex arm loathes anything you have to reach out and punch pin numbers in.
You should see me swipe my key card when I go to work. Comedic gold.
So@24: I can relate. I've gone through most of my life feeling like this guy :)
P.S. -- Watching me juggle my wallet, lunch, key card and bottle of Diet Coke in the mornings? Well...let's just say I should charge an admission fee.
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